We can easily write this book.
The hard part is writing. Writing is
and needs to be wicked hard work. Who'd
be impressed if it wasn't? Even if what
you end up with is perfect and effortless,
what went into it has to have been hard.
Respect yourself. That much must be true,
but the story we have to tell
is so tossed-off and whimsical - geniusly so!
How can we put (in all conscience)
such effort in? It would be, it seems,
beneath us, at least, as we've set out
to tell this thing. A languid and effete
hypocrisy, to work so hard. On this
particular work, I mean. Given its themes
and ways and means, it should
proverbially write itself, or appear
to have done. Indecent of it
to wait so long.
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